


nevertheless

by thir13enth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, PTSD, nothing explicit but everything implied, these battle scars don't like they're fading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she will ask of him are his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nevertheless

**Author's Note:**

> at some point i'll admit that i'm in Voltron hell. but for now i'll pretend i'm not.

And like how the fall of one domino leads the fall of the next: a glance turns into a touch, a touch turns into an embrace, an embrace turns into a kiss and before they both know it, they’re falling heads over heels into bed as they fall heads over heels more and more in love with each other.

Hands exploring bodies, lips exploring skin. They inhale, exhale each other’s hot breath, whispering oh my gods and i love yous, each other’s voices tickling the shells of each other’s ears. His arms around her waist, the backs of her thighs; her hair draping over his face, the pillow. He lies back into the soft silky sheets and she sits over his hips and lies over him. No break as they go from one kiss to the next, one caress to the next—everything is just the two of them and there is nothing except just the two of them.

He slips under her dress, following up her legs with his cupped hands. She shivers at both the touch of his warm soft and his cold hard hands, and she can’t tell the difference between her and him, him and her, but wordless she agrees that her clothing is inconvenient and together they coordinate as one to rid her of it. Her arms go up and his arms follow and then she’s completely bare.

The air bites cool on her skin and she falls back down over him to sink back into his heat and his arms and his lips. Her hands roam his still-clothed body and even the thin fabric is too thick for her to tolerate. She wants so much to press up close against his warm body. She pulls and tugs and scratches at the layer and she cannot figure out how to just get. it. off. of. him.

Why does his shirt not come off? Why is it so tight and tucked close onto his body?

Why does he wear layers? Why does he wear clothes up to his wrists and down to his ankles?

Why does he always keep his limbs to himself? Why does he fold himself into dark corners?

Her finger hooks on the bottom of his top and she huffs sharply—finally _finally_ having found the edge of his seemingly seamless shirt. She is eager, impatient, _wanting_ to feel the entire canvas of his body under her hand and when she feels a small sliver of his bare skin along her fingertips, she practically rips everything on him apart, and now her full hand is flat against his back, and she is climbing up up up, but then he suddenly sits up—

“Mm, no, no, no,” he murmurs into her lips. “We can’t—I can’t—“

“What…” her question falters. She wants to ask what’s wrong but she already knows.

He apologizes into the crook of her neck. She tries to look at his face, but all she can see are his furrowed eyebrows, the faint thin line of a scar over his nose, and his frown drawn in the same tense line over his tense jaw.

“It’s bad,” he finally admits after a tumble of i’m sorrys and it’s not you, it’s mes. He hugs her tightly and she can feel his breath shuddering inside of him.

“I don’t care,” she assures him, cradling his face in both her hands. She tries to turn his head toward her, but he keeps his nose tucked well into her hair.

“You’ll never look at me the same way again.”

She swallows slowly—guiltily because there’s absolutely nothing that she can do but hold him. She finds nothing better to do but repeat the same words.

“I don’t care. I really don’t care.”

She wants to tell him it’s okay and that it’s all over, but she very well knows that it’s _not_ over at all and that every night he still lies in bed awake for hours, afraid that he’ll fall into his nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

She wants to tell him she doesn’t care at all for the scars littered over his skin, but she very well knows that she really _does_ want to know and that he doesn’t want her to find out because when she sees them, she will probably never let him fight again.

“There are _words_ ,” he continues. “There are words and I don’t even know what they mean.”

Her eyes widen. And it’s here when she realizes that maybe he’s right in not showing her at all. It’s better that she doesn’t know—because she knows she can read Galra and that there will be questions carved all over his skin for them to answer—answers that he doesn’t want to hear, answers that he doesn’t want to remember, answers that he never wants to know.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. She can hear that the strain in his words and the hard ball in his throat. “I should be better. I should be.”

“You don’t have to be anything,” she tells him, with a soft kiss to his cheek and a brush of his hair. “I don’t care.”

She clutches him tighter and then she smooths his clothing back over him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice muffled on her shoulder. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you all of me.”

“I’m not asking you for anything,” she assures him.

“I’m sorry the most I can do is kiss you,” he continues. “I can’t do anything else for you. I can’t…”

He looks up at her to apologize again, but she stops him with a finger to his lips.

“Just kiss me then,” she says. “That’s all I’m asking of you.”

It takes him a moment, but within the next second, he grants her just that.

And like how the fall of one domino leads the fall of the next: a kiss turns into smile, a smile turns into a laugh, a laugh turns back into a kiss, and before they know it, they’re falling heads over heels back into the sheets as they fall heads over heels nevertheless in love with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> meh, not sure if this ended up the way i wanted it to. ah well.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](ahumanintraining.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


End file.
